


winter

by liginamite



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Snowball Fight, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Winter, first snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5543543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liginamite/pseuds/liginamite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First snow in the city demands an inaugural snowball fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	winter

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted [here](http://donytello.tumblr.com/post/134667966746/oh-maann-im-so-bad-at-sending-prompts-without-a) on tumblr! thought i'd finally move it over here.

“Hey! Charlie! Wake up! Come on!”

Charlie buries his head into his pillow and groans. The hard _twack_ of an open palm on his window finally makes him raise his head, and he stares, blearily, across the room and out through the glass. He’s still half-asleep, still blinking dreams out of his eyes, but he can guess who the two figures outside are. The clock on his bedside table cheerfully informs him it’s only 9:15 in the morning. Jesus Christ.

“It’s fuckin’ open,” he grumbles, and then repeats himself louder when Benny raps on the window again.

It takes a couple more seconds, but then there’s the rusty squeak of his window opening and Benny and Meyer hauling themselves into his bedroom. The blast of cold from the outside is a lot more unwelcome than they are, and Charlie hauls his covers up higher on his shoulders.

“Charlie, wake the fuck up and come outside,” Benny demands, and gets a glare for his efforts, though it doesn’t do any good. Benny ignores it entirely, gesturing towards the outside, shivering slightly with either cold or excitement or both. “It’s snowing!”

“First snow of the season,” Meyer adds, and Charlie squints. They’ve both got snowflakes in their eyelashes, a dusting of white on their shoulders, one solitary flake still perched almost daintily on the tip of Benny’s nose. Huh. Charlie lifts himself a little more off the pillow, leans his cheek on one hand.

“Yeah? Why the fuck’s that my problem?”

Benny rolls his eyes, deliberate and over exaggerated, but Meyer grins like he’s in on some private joke no one else is aware of.

“You’re such a pain in the ass. ‘Cause it looks good, and we have the day off, and nature and all that shit.” Benny runs his hands together and then breathes hard into the gap of his fingers. “It’s fuckin’ cold. I’m gonna go grab my gloves, hold on.”

And with his cheeks and nose still rosy pink, he hauls himself back out the window. They can hear him clanging about on the fire escape, clambering back up into his apartment. Meyer rubs his hands absently together too, the snow beginning to melt where it’s stuck to his hair. He too looks pleased with the snow, and with the heavy sigh of the resigned, Charlie starts pulling himself up out of bed.

“It really is very beautiful,” Meyer notes, and his boots clack against the hardwood as he cocks his head to look out the window while Charlie drags his pants on, and then starts hunting around for more. “We should head down to Central Park, when Benny gets back. Make the most of our day off.”

“Yeah, yeah, all that romantic shit,” Charlie mumbles; his socks don’t match. Fuck it. He pulls on boots, too, and then starts hunting for a sweater.

“Don’t sound quite so enthusiastic, Charlie,” Meyer replies dryly, and the look on his face makes him a deadringer for AR; sly and amused, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a grin from above the lip of his scarf. “I happen to like the peacefulness of Central Park when it snows, all the white.” He pauses, considering. “I like the snow in general, really.”

“Mmphh. Why you stay in here then?” Charlie asks as soon as he’s got his head out from the collar of his sweater, hair even more of a wreck than when he’d woken up.

“Oh, mostly to distract you,” Meyer says easily, and with an odd look, Charlie turns to him.

“Distr–”

He’s got a faceful of snow a second later and Benny’s whooping and hollering, sitting in the windowsill with another wad of snow balled up between his fingers. Little fuck got his gloves, all right. Charlie shakes his head to get the snow out of his eyes and then points even as a grin starts forming on his face.

“You’re fuckin’ dead!”

Benny flips him off and throws the snowball, barely missing Charlie’s head when he ducks. A second later he’s all long limbs and laughter as he pulls himself back out the window and Charlie’s chasing after him, coatless, gloveless, swearing loudly as he tugs on the bars above him to climb the fire escape. He can hear Meyer from underneath them, having the hindsight to shut Charlie’s window behind him with a dull thunk before following. But Charlie’s caught up with Benny now, who had nowhere to run on the roof, and now they’re playing a game of cat and mouse with snowballs rolled tight in their hands.

Benny looks exceptionally pleased with himself, a point of red and black amongst the white backdrop of the city layered with snow. “I can’t believe you fell for that one.”

Charlie hurls his snowball just in time to graze the top of Benny’s head when he ducks, and then he’s swearing again and gathering more snow as Benny’s hits his shoulder. Soon it’s a battle between the two of them, until a  questionably wayward attack from Benny hits Meyer square in the center of the chest.

 _Then_ it’s all out war. Meyer pelts the both of them at point-blank range at least three times, and soon all three of them have destroyed the layer of snow with footprints. But they’re laughing, and cursing at each other, and the sound bounces off the stone and metal around them.

Afterwards the three of them sit on the edge of the roof, passing a cigarette between the three of them. It burns down too quick, and Charlie’s shivering hard from the cold. But he’s happy, holding the smoke between wet, red hands. Meyer’s foot is against his, and Benny’s pressed up against his shoulder waiting on his turn, and they’re both rosy and splattered with water from melted snow, and Charlie looks out across the building tops, the traffic, the trees just visible from Central Park and thinks, well, he can get all that sentimental shit about snow.


End file.
